


Soft Curves

by NightOfTheLand



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, He deserves so much better, Internalized Homophobia, The Author Regrets Everything, Why do I torture John?, heed the warnings, if this topic makes you uncomfortable don't read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightOfTheLand/pseuds/NightOfTheLand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't like Martha wasn't beautiful, she was. All long hair and good skin and nicely sized boobs- or at least that's what the other boys on the baseball team said when they talked about her in the locker room. John was too busy pointedly not looking at the half clothed bodies of his teammates to really pay attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Curves

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with John having sex with Martha for the first time, well, really having sex for the first time period. It's very very much dubcon, so if that makes you comfortable maybe don't read.

She was soft and sweet beneath him. Her lips were soft. Her hair was soft. Her chest was soft pressed against his. Even her tongue was soft where it moved against his. Her hands were soft where they were tangled in his short cropped curls, nails not so soft as they raked over his scalp. Her moan was soft against his mouth as he traced his hands down her body, letting them rest on her hips. 

They were still clothed, but John didn't know how long that was going to last. Martha seemed determined to get him into her bed tonight. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. She felt wrong in his arms, too soft, too yielding. But her tongue was insistent against his and he couldn't help the little sounds that escaped his lips. 

Her hands traveled from his hair down his back and up under the hem of his shirt. An appreciative moan left her as she traces the hard line of his stomach. “God, John, you're perfect,” she gasped against his lips, before pulling away to tug at his shirt. 

He swallowed hard, mind screaming, as he let her do it, shivering slightly as cool air met bare skin. She groaned again, leaning forward to run her tongue across each hard ridge of his abs. He shivered again at the sensation. He didn't know where to put his hands so he awkwardly kept him at his sides even as she pushed him backward so he was lying prone on the bed. 

Martha seemed to notice his awkwardness, throwing a leg over his hips, straddling his upper thighs. “Oh, honey,” she cooed, “Is this your first time?” 

John went even redder than he already was at that question. Something itched under his skin telling him he should leave, that he should run as far away from this as possible. But, no, this was what was accepted. A man and a woman. Hard planes against soft curves. He was supposed to be turned on by her and yet his dick lay mostly uninterested in his jeans. 

It wasn't like Martha wasn't beautiful, she was. All long hair and good skin and nicely sized boobs- or at least that's what the other boys on the baseball team said when they talked about her in the locker room. John was too busy pointedly not looking at the half clothed bodies of his teammates to really pay attention. After every practice he felt that familiar self loathing that had long been drilled into his head by his father’s constant rants against gays. He slinked away up to his room, beating himself up over his body’s reactions. 

Martha had approached him at a party, they had flirted - John uncomfortably, Marth with fervour - and they had found themselves dating. Henry Laurens had been pleased, encouraging the relationship, even going so far as to encourage his son to sleep with her. Which lead them to this particular evening, sitting alone in Martha’s bedroom, the house around them empty and silent. It seemed the world was conspiring against him. 

He was drawn from his thoughts at the sound of the clack of his belt being undone, slender fingers nimble as they popped the button on his jeans and eased down the zipper. “John,” Martha murmured, “Have you done this before?” She put special emphasis on the word this, and John’s face was on fire as he swallowed heavily and shook his head ‘no’ against the blankets, unable to look at her. 

Eyes squeezed shut, he lifted his hips to let her pull his jeans down his legs, trying not to wince at the sound of them hitting the floor. His phone was in his pocket and he hoped it hadn't broken with the impact. Those smooth slender fingers were back on him, ghosting up his thighs and he shuddered slightly. Martha giggled as she leaned down to kiss each thigh in turn. “John, sweetie, you don't have to be nervous,” her voice was soft and sweet and it made his skin crawl. 

“I'm not,” he choked out completely unconvincingly, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at her, damn it. She was watching him, eyes dark with lust as she scratched long nails back down his thighs causing him to hiss, before the cupped him through his boxer briefs. 

“This says you are,” she giggled again, leaning up to kiss him quickly, “Relax, baby, let me make it good for you.” 

She tugged down his underwear, exposing his uninterested cock, and hmmed slightly, before kissing the head. She took him in hand and he squeezed his eyes shut again. He was supposed to be enjoying this, this was what is normal, a man and a woman, together. Her soft hand stroked him gently and much to his mixed relief and disgust he started getting hard. “There you go, honey, relax for me,” she cooed at him, kissing his stomach, licking at his abs, her hand never stopping its movement. 

In his mind he imagined a slightly rougher hand, calloused from work, fingers strong and thick. He imagined hard muscle against his, a male voice cooing in his ear, five o'clock shadow rubbing against his skin. He moaned at the fantasy and Martha giggled. She had moved to licking at his cock and he couldn't stop the noises he was making, pants and strangled groans as he fisted the sheets, knuckles going white from effort. “Fuck,” he groaned, bucking his hips into her. 

Martha pulled away right as he was about to fall over the peak. “I want you to fuck me,” she said by way of explanation, pulling her shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra and John couldn't help but stare. He had seen naked women before but not up close, not with the expectation that he would be fucking one. That sick feeling was back in his stomach but he shoved it away, wrapping his own fist around his cock, stroking himself to keep it hard, letting that horrible fantasy play in his mind, as Martha finished undressing. 

A condom was rolled over him, a too delicate hands stroking him again, before Martha pulled him on top of her. He reached out hesitantly, a finger brushing to slit between her legs, hidden by a small neatly trimmed thatch of hair. She was wet. His finger slipped inside easily. He swallowed hard, she was soft inside, and so wet she was dripping into his palm. “Oh, John,” she sighed, pulling him to her, pressing her lips to his, “Please.” 

He took that as an invitation, and fighting a roll of unease and disgust he slid inside her warm, soft, wet body. She moaned, arching up into him. He froze. He knew the mechanics of this, how this was supposed to go, had made himself watch enough straight porn to know what to do, but he couldn't. “John?” Martha’s voice was concerned as she cupped his cheek. 

He stared at her with wide eyes, seeing lust reflected back at him, and he knew he needed to do this, knew he needed to convince himself he was enjoying this, that sleeping with a woman meant he wasn't gay. So he gave her a tight smile and moved his hips, his thrust a little sloppy but decent. She moaned again under him, and her walls tightened around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, arms braced on either side of her soft, soft body. If he kept his eyes closed he could almost return to his fantasy, the heat coiling in his stomach as he moved within. He didn't last long, only a handful of thrusts before he came, face flushed with embarrassment as he shuddered through his orgasm. 

Beneath him, Martha sighed as if disappointed. He felt his face getting even redder at that. Finger stroked through his hair gently as if to reassure him. “It's okay, honey, it's your first time,” she murmured, voice low and rough with lust. 

He pulled out of her before he went completely soft and she helped him take care of the condom, dropping it in the waste basket next to her desk. “Can I….?” His question was left unfinished as Martha lay back beside him, and guided his hand back between her legs. He was slow to start stroking her, her wetness increased, the feel of her wrong against his fingers, but he felt like he needed to do this, needed to get her off. So he thrust his fingers into her, listening to her moan and shake around him, her hands in his hair, tugging until the tugging became a pushing and he found himself almost face to face with her, so close he could smell her desire. 

Something sharp and vile ran through him as he knew what she wanted him to do. He swallowed hard again, trying to convince himself that this was normal for a first time, this unwillingness, this lack of interest in his partner’s body. He needed to do this, so he leaned in and kissed her opening, tasting her on his lips. He shuddered, the sick feeling back, but her persisted, kissing her again and again, letting her gasps and groans guide him, following her direction when she gasped out, “Your tongue, please!” 

The taste of her was unappealing, but he could shove that aside if he imagined he was anywhere else but here. He mindlessly let his tongue lap at her, fingers still stroking, and she came apart around him, a rush of something musky on his tongue, thighs clamping around his ears. 

She was flushed and panting, her perfect breasts heaving with effort. It should have been enough to send lust coursing through his veins, but it did nothing for him. She smiled at him through slitted eyes, tugging him down for a kiss. Murmuring against his lips how good he did, how absolutely wonderful he was. He lay there almost passively, before she sighed and dropped her head to his naked shoulder, breathing going deep and even as she relaxed against him. 

He stayed stock still, afraid to move, until he was sure she was asleep. Moving carefully he slipped out of the bed, and found his clothes. It was harder to sneak out of the house quietly but he managed to get out the front door without her stopping him. It was a long walk home, exhaustion tugging at him, along with disgust and self loathing, but he set a quick pace, pulling his thankfully unbroken phone from his pocket to check the time. Nearing 1 in the morning. He sighed. He was going to catch hell for this. 

Sneaking into his own house was harder than sneaking out of Martha's. A light clicked on as soon as he got in the door. His father stood there with a stern look, arms folded across his chest, and John couldn't help the fear at settled in his stomach. “Where’ve you been?” Henry’s voice was low and vibrating with something John couldn't place. 

“Martha’s,” was the only word John could get out, and he sounded wrecked, and his face heated up and his father ran a critical eye over his messed up hair, kiss swollen lips, wrinkled clothes. Henry nodded once, a small self satisfied grin cracking his face before he turned to go back to bed, “Sleep well, son.” 

John couldn't move fast enough to get to his bathroom, stomach churning as he heaved into the toilet, eyes wet with unshed tears. Shower wrenched on to cover the sound. There was nothing in his stomach except bile so he sat on the floor dry heaving, body trembling with effort. He hated himself. He hated himself more than ever. And his father knew. His father knew he had had sex with Martha, that he had had sex with a woman. Even if John did come out now there was no way his father would accept it. Not now.

Clenching his fists against the toilet edge, eyes squeezed shut John let tears fall, sobs silently wracking his body, a little voice in the back of his head telling him he was disgusting. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sinning with me. If you like it please let me know. As always let me know if there are any mistakes or errors. 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://nightoftheland.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Check out my other [Hamilton series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/381985)
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> If there are negative comments about how these characters are depicted, keep them to yourself please. I have done my best to take into consideration the... advice I have been given, so if I have failed in your eyes, I do not want to hear about it. Have a lovely day, and thanks again.


End file.
